


Yesterday's Dress In a Complete Mess

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Clarke meets her RA, he's hungover and looks like a complete disaster. It really shouldn't work for him, but apparently she's into disasters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday's Dress In a Complete Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Look, Bob Morley wore A LOT OF GLASSES this weekend and it was very hard for me to deal with. This is actually inspired by [this specific gifset](http://ponyregrets.tumblr.com/post/140184984634/okteiviasbleik-richard-harmon-bob-morley) because I have so many feelings about oversized sweaters. My life is also a complete disaster.

By October of her sophomore year, Clarke knows exactly three things about her RA: his name is Bellamy Blake, he's a senior, and on the first Sunday of the school year he told everyone but her that there was a bowl of condoms and dental dams outside his door and they should tell him if they run out of either.

He didn't specifically _not_ tell her about the condom bowl, she wasn't being excluded or anything, but she had to miss their first (and so far only) dorm meeting because her mother had a donor event and insisted that Clarke come to it. So he probably said more than just the condom bowl thing, but when she asked Raven what she missed, that was all she came up with, so that's all Clarke knows.

She assumes she's seen Bellamy Blake at some point, because they live in the same building and he must be kind of around, but she doesn't know which of the random guys who live on her floor is her RA. They did recently start emailing, because she wanted to know if she could recruit people to help out at the college fair at one of the local high schools, and he was even surprisingly helpful about it. To the point of being her only volunteer, despite his best efforts. Or what she assumed were his best efforts, which involved sending two official emails and putting up a signup sheet in the common room that everyone ignored.

They're supposed to meet outside the dorm at eleven so Bellamy can drive them in, but by 11:15, there's still no sign of him, and Clarke swears under her breath, goes back inside, and starts pounding on his door. 

There's some muffled noise from his room, a crash, some creative swearing, and then Bellamy Blake opens the door. She has seen him before, of course, and even checked him out a couple times, when he was wandering around in nothing but a towel. He's an attractive guy, when he wants to be.

Right now, though, he's a fucking _disaster_. His curly black hair, usually artfully disheveled, is flat on one side and sticking up in all directions on the other, and he's wearing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that she hasn't seen before, plus skinny jeans, a sweater that's at least two sizes too big, and one untied boot.

He blinks at her a few times, like he's hoping if he does it enough, he'll understand what's happening.

"Are we out of condoms?" he finally asks. His voice is low and raspy and Clarke doesn't really want to be attracted to him, given he's not only apparently a fucking _flake_ , but also looks like he's hungover, still mostly asleep, and incapable of buying clothing that fits him. 

"It's eleven-twenty on a Saturday morning," she says, and he shrugs.

"I try not to judge people's life choices."

"I'm Clarke Griffin," she says. "You're supposed to be my ride to the high school? We're doing--"

"Oh, fuck." He scrubs his hand over his face. "Fuck. What time is it?"

"Eleven-twenty. We talked about this."

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, fuck." It's actually a little funny, watching him hop around the room, trying to find his other boot. "I swear I set my alarm, fuck, fuck." He glances up at her, giving her a small smile. "I promise I'm not usually this much of a wreck."

"I don't really believe you."

"Fair enough." He pulls on his other boot and winces when he checks his reflection in the mirror. He makes a token attempt to pat his hair down, but apparently even he realizes it's not worth it. "So, uh, I assume you're ready."

"Twenty minutes ago," she says, and he winces again. 

"Did I say sorry, or just swear a lot?"

"Both, actually."

"Awesome." He grabs his phone and his keys and gestures for Clarke to leave the room ahead of him. "I really am sorry. I had, uh--"

"You got drunk last night and didn't set your alarm," she supplies.

"Actually, I think I did?" He scrubs his hand over his face again, dislodging his glasses, and Clarke has to admit, he's kind of adorable. For a human disaster. "I tried to put it on snooze. I guess it didn't work."

"We'll probably still be on time," she says. "And it's not like _I'm_ the one who's going to show up dressed like that."

"What's wrong with this?" he asks, looking down at himself. "I probably would have worn it anyway."

"Really?"

He flashes her a bright grin, sudden and unexpected, and her chest lurches. He's hot, too. She knew he was hot, but it was easy to forget, when he was being such a failure. "Nope. This is what I passed out in. Except the sweater, but that's just because the t-shirt I was wearing was so gross."

"Did you steal that from your ex-boyfriend?" she has to ask. It's _huge_ on him; he has to roll up the sleeves to drive.

"Yup. And he's never getting it back."

Clarke grins. "It does look really cute on you."

"Oh good, at least there's that." He glances over at her in the passenger seat, looking sheepish. "We haven't even formally met, huh?" 

"Nope."

"I'm Bellamy."

"Clarke."

"You weren't at the dorm meeting, right? I haven't met you."

"Yeah, I had to do something."

"Seriously? I tried to schedule it at the least busy time possible, I thought everyone would make it."

She worries her lip. People get weird about her mom sometimes, but it seems stupid to not tell him. "I had to go to a fundraiser."

"A fundraiser?"

"My mom is, um--she's a dean at the medical school. So she likes me to go to events so she can show me off. I don't always do it, but--this one had really good free food."

"Huh."

She glances at him, trying to read his expression. It's definitely more shut-off than it was, and she tries to figure out how to recover. "She got the job after I got admitted. I was actually pretty pissed. I applied to schools out of state to get away from her, and then she got head-hunted for the dean position. But she's still my mom, you know?"

"Sure."

"Plus, my friend Lincoln was bartending, and he doesn't care I'm not legal, so free alcohol."

That gets him to smile again. She wonders if there's a good way to check if he's gay or bi. Just to determine how her inability to stop thinking he's attractive should affect her life. "You know Lincoln?"

"Yeah, we're art-major buddies. What about you?"

Bellamy glances down at himself. "This was his sweater."

"I bet it looked really cute on him too," she teases, and Bellamy grins. "Were you the guy he was dating last year?"

"If I say yes, am I gonna find out he told you all sorts of bad shit about me?"

"Kind of."

"Then yes."

She laughs. "I do know some awkward stuff about your sex life."

"Awesome."

"He said it was an amicable breakup and you're a good guy."

"Definitely giving me too much credit on that one."

"Well, it's Lincoln. He likes everyone, honestly. I don't think I've ever heard him shit-talk an ex."

He grins. "Yeah, true. That's part of why we broke up, I could never be that positive. Not that I'm going to say anything bad about him. He's a great guy, we're still friends."

"He said you and I would probably get along," she admits. "He kept meaning to introduce us, but it never worked out."

"And now I made an awesome first impression." He gives her a wry smile. "I really am sorry for oversleeping. I'm excited about the fair."

"Really?" she asks, dubious.

"Really." He turns off the car, stretches, and tries to get his hair in order again. It does absolutely no good, and Clarke bites back on a smile. Lincoln's boyfriend last year was definitely bi. They talked about that.

"Here, let me," she says, and he leans forward without hesitation, letting her put his hair into slightly better order. It's a little greasy, but apparently he's one of those lucky people whose hair feels soft and nice even when it needs a wash. She might take longer than is strictly necessary getting him presentable, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Thanks," he says, with a soft smile, and Clarke has to smile back.

They're still a little early, because Clarke might be a little paranoid about this stuff. She likes being early to places; she gets antsy when she's not. And she was a little worried about finding the gym, but apparently that was unnecessary, because Bellamy knows exactly where they're going.

When they arrive, there's a girl with long brown hair and a clipboard telling people where to go; as soon as she sees the two of them, she just breaks out laughing.

"Shut up," Bellamy tells her, without heat.

"When was the last time you showered, Bell?"

"Yesterday. Seriously, shut up."

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Are you an asshole?"

"You're going to scare people away from your college," says the girl. "They're gonna take one look at you and decide that they can just skip college and go straight to being a hobo. Save some money."

"Nice to see you too, O." He glances at Clarke. "This is my little sister, Octavia. Octavia, Clarke. She lives in my dorm. It was her idea to come to this, so I assume she'll be doing most of the work to sell the school. I'm just her ride."

"Nice to meet you," says Octavia. "Good luck making this dork look good."

"I knew I shouldn't have come to this," says Bellamy, but he can't help his grin. He slings his arm around his sister, warm and affectionate, and ruffles her hair. "Where's our table? Clarke brought brochures and everything."

"You really didn't do any work for this, did you, Bell?" Octavia leans down to look past her brother at Clarke. "Sorry you have to put up with him. He must be the worst RA ever."

"He always makes sure we have access to condoms," Clarke says. "And he definitely wasn't hungover and still asleep when we were supposed to be leaving this morning."

"Definitely not," Bellamy agrees. "I'm a mature adult who makes good choices."

"Keep telling yourself," says Octavia. "Here's your table. And some gum. You should go wash your face, too. I'm embarrassed to be related to you."

"Always good to see you, O," he says, pressing his lips against his sister's hair and then shoving her away and accepting a stick of gum. "I promise we won't convince kids that college will turn them into hobos."

"You cannot actually promise that," she says, and leaves them with a wave over her shoulder.

Once she's got the table set up to her satisfaction, Clarke asks, "So, you volunteered for this to bug your sister?"

"Kind of." He flashes her another grin. She's really starting to be into his whole look, which is a serious problem. The next time she sees him in just his towel, looking actually _hot_ , she'll probably just die. "Honestly, I signed up and told her I'd be here, so I assumed she wouldn't come, and then she signed up to work it, so she could see me without admitting she wanted to see me."

Clarke laughs. "Really?"

"I'm pretty sure. Obviously she didn't just say that, but yeah. That's probably how it works." He wets his lips, looking out over the gym. "It's been kind of rough for us, we're still figuring out how to--she was pissed when I decided to move into the dorms."

"Why?"

"I lived at home freshman and sophomore year, so she'd have some backup with our mom. It's always been pretty rocky with--everything." He pauses, frowns. "And now I'm oversharing. Can I blame this on still being drunk?"

"Depends. What did you even _do_ last night, seriously?"

"Best friend's boyfriend's birthday party. He turned twenty-one, so--"

"So everyone made bad choices?"

"The worst part is we weren't even drinking normal alcohol. Monty made this moonshine, so--"

"Wait, your best friend is Monty's boyfriend?"

"You know Monty?"

Clarke laughs. "Yeah. I was _at that party_. I just left early. Because _I_ knew I had plans today."

"Jesus. You live in my dorm, you're friends with my ex-boyfriend and Miller's boyfriend, and I still manage to meet you for the first time when I'm hungover and look like I recently died. How the fu--" He glances around, apparently remembering they're surrounded by teenagers. "How did that happen?"

"Apparently our schedules really suck." She pats his arm. "If it helps, it actually looks like you died a while ago."

"Yeah, so much. Thanks."

The fair actually opens up then, and they have a pretty steady stream of kids stopping to talk to them, asking to hear about their college experiences. Bellamy's easy and charming, working this hot nerd vibe that has half the teenagers who come by falling for him, to say nothing of Clarke. Because--she likes attractive, competent people as much as the next person, but there's something about someone being chill and cool even in weird circumstances that's very appealing. And the way Bellamy talks about school, about his majors (history and classics), his plans for grad school, gesturing broadly, eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, is just--

He's so stupidly cute.

On top of that, Octavia keeps drifting by, pretending she doesn't want to hang out with her brother while being so obviously happy to see him that it warms Clarke's heart. She's an only child, so she doesn't really understand why they can't just hang out without coming up with weird excuses, but the fake avoidance is also pretty adorable.

It's a shame she doesn't see more of her RA, really. She's going to work on that.

He collapses onto the table at around two, during a lull in traffic. Clarke reaches over to scratch his head, realizing it's weird only once her fingers are tangled in his hair. It's what she'd do to a friend, but she and Bellamy aren't actually friends. But he just lets out a contented sigh, so she keeps going. She really needs to figure out a way to get to play with his hair all the time.

"Do you need Advil?" she asks.

"Do you have Advil?" he asks, without lifting his head. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I always have Advil."

"You might be my new favorite person." He pauses, pushes his head against her hand a little, like a fucking cat. "But, uh, keep doing that for a while first, okay?"

"I can't believe you drank Monty's moonshine," she teases. "I thought everyone knew Monty's moonshine was basically gasoline."

"He's Miller's boyfriend. I wanted to make a good impression."

"Try to remember: was Miller laughing at you? Was _everyone_ laughing at you?"

"I can't believe you didn't find me and save me."

"Before I knew who you were?"

"You seem like a good Samaritan. Selflessly rescuing unsuspecting guys from Monty's moonshine and shitty decisions."

"I probably would have laughed at you," Clarke says, smiling a little. "I bet it was hilarious."

"Miller did text me some videos I haven't watched yet."

"You have videos of yourself drunk off your ass and you haven't shared them yet? Come on, Bellamy. Friends share."

He lifts his head with a crooked smile; his glasses are askew again and Clarke resists the urge to lean in. Her hand is still in his hair; it would be so easy to just kiss him right now. But also really weird.

"We're friends now?"

"This is a bonding experience. Also, I really want to see those videos."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." He wets his lips. "Maybe later. When we're not in a high school gym and my sister might come by and ask to see."

"I think your sister knows you got drunk and made bad choices last night. Just a guess. She's given you five sticks of gum and told everyone she can that you're a cautionary tale about the dangers of alcoholism and being a nerd."

"She's not wrong." He sits back up, stretching, and Clarke takes her hand back. "We could watch them tonight," he offers. "Get some pizza, make it a whole Mystery Science Theater experience."

Clarke finds herself grinning. "Is your actual idea for a first date watching videos of you making an idiot of yourself?"

"Trying to set realistic expectations before you agree to a second date," he says, mouth twitching. "If the whole, uh--" He gestures to himself. "If today didn't already do it."

Clarke glances around, and the leans in to press his mouth against his, just a quick peck. He's _adorable_. She might have an entirely new type. "Pizza sounds great."

A month later, she's grabbing lunch with Lincoln, and he takes one look at her and starts laughing.

"What?"

"It's going well with Bellamy, I take it?"

It is, in fact; it turns out Bellamy is most of the time pretty good at faking being a real person, but when it's just him and Clarke, he reverts to being an overenthusiastic nerd who can't keep his hair out of his face and talks with hands as much as his mouth. 

She loves basically all the versions of him at this point, and her friends all say she's pathetic. Which is true, but she finds it hard to care. She's got an awesome boyfriend, and life is good.

Still, it's not like _Lincoln_ knows that. He's just started grad school and is busy all the time. She's barely seen him this year, let alone since she and Bellamy started going out. So she scowls and asks, "What makes you say that?"

"You're wearing my sweater," he says, with a smug grin.

Clarke looks down at herself, and, of course, she's wearing the same sweater Bellamy was wearing the day they met, which is even more oversized on her than it was on him. It's basically engulfing her.

"Oh."

"You didn't know?"

There is a very slight possibility that she was running late because Bellamy was eating her out and she lost track of time, so she basically threw on her clothes and grabbed the first jacket-like thing she found in his room when she realized she had a lunch date. But there's no way she's telling Lincoln that. Not until she's drunk and they're gossiping about how great Bellamy is at sex.

"It's a really nice sweater," she says.

"I know. I miss it."

Clarke smirks and burrows closer into the warm material of shirt. It smells like Bellamy, and she really needs to wear it more often. "Too bad," she tells Lincoln. "All mine now."


End file.
